


All the Time in the World

by withpractice_ff



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withpractice_ff/pseuds/withpractice_ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time when Thalassa Gramarye was young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Time in the World

Thalassa Gramarye is eighteen years old. She is standing alone in her bathroom and hoping that if she wishes for it hard enough, the little stick in her hand will suddenly read a minus sign instead of a plus sign.

  


* * *

  


Thalassa Gramarye is eighteen years old, but she has to sneak out of the lodging house in the middle the night so her father doesn’t somehow overhear her making this phone call.

She makes the call from a phone booth at the truck stop half a mile away from her makeshift home. She runs most of the way, terrified of what might happen if someone finds her gone from her bed, and when she has the receiver in her hand she has to wait a minute before dialing, struggling to catch her breath before calling the west coast.

“Lass?” he asks hesitantly, worried by the hour and the tone of her voice. “It’s the middle of the night out there. What’s wrong?”

The nights are different on the road than they are at home. Always making camp outside the cities, the air is clearer, the darkness blacker, and looking up into the sky feels like falling. She presses her hand to the glass door of the booth, staring up at the stars. Her heart pounds against her chest, and Apollo listens to the sound of her ragged breathing until she finally tells him her news.

  


* * *

  


Thalassa’s read comic books since she was a kid. Her father thinks it’s a foolish habit, and he never hesitates to tell her so. She wonders how a man who makes a living squeezing into the hidden compartments of brightly painted boxes can find the nerve to call anything foolish. Still, he buys her an issue or two every time he goes into town. He’s never been be able to resist spoiling her rotten.

She’s curled up in bed with an issue of _Wonder Woman_ when her cell phone starts jumping on the mattress next to her. Looking at the number on her caller ID, her stomach leaps into her throat.

“Thalassa Gramarye of Troupe Gramarye,” she answers, her voice shaking.

“Apollo Lamont of Troupe Lamont,” he chirps back. Her organs shift themselves back to their proper positions.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in rehearsal?” she whispers.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting sawed in half?”

“I’m taking a sick day. Zak’s in the box.”

Apollo laughs, imaging how well that must have gone over with Thalassa’s senior partner. “I’m on a break. Are you actually sick?”

“Sick of prancing around looking pretty.”

“Just you wait,” Apollo says, his voice rising in excitement. “Once we start our own troupe, I promise you’ll never have to be the girl in the box again. Unless you want too, of course.”

“Shhh,” she scolds him, but she’s smiling from ear to ear. “Someone will hear you.”

“Let them! Let them hear that my girl is the best magician there ever was! That there ever will be! And I can’t wait to let her cut me in half on a nightly basis.”

  


* * *

  


A month and a half in, she starts getting morning sickness. The first time it’s sudden, in the middle of the dining hall. She spoons a ladle full of syrup onto her pancakes, and the next thing she knows she’s puking onto her tray, onto the floor.

Oh, it’s mortifying.

But worse, her father insists that she go to the hospital. She’s been sick so much, lately, and now she’s vomiting on her breakfast? Something must be wrong.

She talks him out of it by agreeing to take a few days off. Zak is less than pleased.

  


* * *

  


In her head, she often thinks of her dad and Gerald Lamont, patriarch of Troupe Lamont, as Reed Richards and Dr. Doom.

She’s not always sure which is which, though.

  


* * *

  


“We have to make a decision soon,” she says quietly into her cell phone, her hand cupped over her mouth and the receiver. She’s a half-mile away from the lodging house, nothing but horizon in every direction. She sits down on the gritty, dirty earth and lets the night envelop her.

“I love you,” he says, equally quiet. She wonders where he’s found to hide himself away.

“I love you, too.”

“Then what is there to decide?”

  


* * *

  


Even as old as she is, she rarely goes into the city by herself. As much as her father can confuse and displace her, she enjoys his company, and she likes hearing all the little trivia he seems to know about every small town they visit. And why wouldn't he? He's spent his entire adult life in these small towns.

But she's alone today, and her hands shake as she slides the envelope full of money into her purse as she exits the bank.

She's got twenty minutes until her bus is due. Still riding on adrenalin, she walks into the maternity store without looking to see who might be around. They're all under the tent, anyway, for another rehersal she excused herself out of. Let her never say that being the head magician's daughter doesn't have its perks.

She leaves the store with a set of plastic keys in bold primary colors--the first gift anyone's ever bought for her baby.

  


* * *

  


Conveniently, they’ll be crossing paths in the midwest—Troupe Lamont headed east, Troupe Gramarye headed west. It’s the reverse of the last time they met, just under three months ago.

The timing couldn’t be better, because her costume is starting to fit a little too snuggly for her liking, and Zak keeps trying to get her to start a diet.

  


* * *

  


He comes for her at midnight, sneaking in through the window. His car is parked down the highway, and they have to go, but she's just ripped another sheet of paper from her notebook, crumpling it into a tight ball and dropping it to her feet with the others.

"Just write what you feel," Apollo tells her, and starts gathering the rumpled wads of paper into his bag. She'll want them later, he thinks.

  


* * *

  


 _Daddy,_

 _This must be so surprising to you, and I'm sorry that's the case._

 _I have to go for a little while. I don't want to, but I have to. But I think it will be good for me. This is a chance for me to spread my wings a bit without stepping on anyone's toes. I'm going to be the best dang magician you've ever seen, I promise you. Even Zak will want me as a full partner once he sees what I can do._

 _You don't need to worry, because I have a friend with me. And he loves me, and he believes in me. Together we're going to change everything. I wish you could meet him and love him like I do. Soon, I hope. When I come back._

 _Oh, and when I come back, I'm going to have the biggest surprise for you. It's going to knock your socks off!_

 _And tell Zak I'm sorry he'll be stuck in the box until you find a replacement for me, and that I love him. Tell everyone I love them. And remember that I love you, and I'll come home soon, and when I do I'll have something so special to show you, you can't even imagine._

 _Love always,  
Thalassa_

  


* * *

  


They drive twenty hours straight, taking turns sleeping in the passenger seat, trying to get as much distance between themselves and Kansas as possible, as quickly as possible. It's dark when they get to LA, checking into a cheap motel and lying side-by-side on top of the scratchy comforter.

Apollo put his hand on her belly, only slightly rounder than the last time he saw her.

"I think I just felt it kick!"

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "It's like the size a strawberry. I'm not even sure it has legs."

"I definitely felt something."

"Indigestion, probably."

  


* * *

  


Apollo thinks that once the baby comes, everything will change. Mr. Gramarye will see what a good father he is, and how well he's taken care of his daughter. His own father will be so thrilled to finally have the grandchild he's been dreaming of spoiling rotten, and he'll see how much Thalassa has given to his family. Everyone will see how happy they are, how good they are for each other, and how wonderful their baby is, and old wounds will start to heal. Maybe there will even be a reunion tour! And if that goes well--and it will, because why wouldn't it?--then maybe the two troupes will merge, forming a veritable super troupe.

It will be glorious, he says.

She thinks that Mr. Lamont must be a bit more forgiving than her own father, because she can't see that happening at all.

  


* * *

  


Apollo was busy, waiting for their meet-up in Kansas. He's booked them in clubs all over town--little places, almost empty during their shows--and they haven't even finished writing their routine yet. She's almost glad that there are only twelve people in the audience for their first show, it goes so badly.

But it's fun. God, is it fun.

  


* * *

  


They perform as The Disappearing Heathens. While she's still able, they take turns being the one in the box. When her belly starts getting too big, Apollo does all the contortion and Thalassa does all the slight of hand.

Her pregnancy starts drawing crowds as a bit of a novelty. But they've spent months now perfecting their act, and it's the magic and awe of their show that keeps people coming back night after night.

  


* * *

  


Their apartment is small, with a leaky ceiling and an ant problem no amount of Raid can cure. Thalassa loves it. Apollo got her a sewing machine shortly after they moved in, and together they made some pillows for the couch, billowing red curtains for the windows, and she's just started a quilt for the baby.

Oh, the baby.

Her hand goes instinctually to her stomach at the thought. Eight months along and the baby is constantly moving, pressing against the weight of her hand. It's weird, feeling something move beneath her skin.

They've been looking for a bigger place, now that the baby's due soon. It's been hard finding something they can afford.

If the three of them have to stay in this small studio apartment, Thalassa doesn't care. She'll be happy no matter where they are, so long as they're together.

She stands and throws the window open, the crisp autumn air a relief against her skin. She leans her upper body out the window, twisting to look up at the sky.

It's a beautiful evening. And Thalassa doesn't yet know how completely her life is about to change.

  


* * *

  


She finds out about the accident because one of the nurses found the pictures of her in Apollo's wallet.

"I thought you must have been pretty important to him," the woman says quietly, gently smoothing her hand over the girl's forehead as she cries into this stranger's chest.

  


* * *

  


Thalassa sits at the bus stop across from the funeral home. Best to go in now, with the crowd. Maybe they won't notice, won't recognize her. She pushes her dark, over-sized glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

She wraps her arms around her stomach. The next bus. She'll go in after the next bus.

  


* * *

  


It's dark when she finally rises from the bench, the wake long over.

She walks straight to the pay phone and dials her father.

  


* * *

  


He flies out to meet her, canceling three of the troupe's shows to spend the week with her in LA. He doesn't say anything when he sees her, just let's her fall into his arms and weep.

  


* * *

  


"That's not what I'm saying at all," her father says calmly, his voice sharpened with a familiar edge of irritation.

"You want me to give up the only part of him I have left," she yells, her voice breaking through her tears.

"You don't even know his family. What if they try to take the baby away from you?"

"Better that than have him with strangers." She eases herself onto the bed, feeling faint.

"What if they try to take _you_ away from me?" her father asks, so quiet she's not entirely sure he actually spoke.

He joins her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. She sinks into him, nodding helplessly against his chest. She'll do it. She'll do whatever he wants.

  


* * *

  


Her father flies back out for the delivery. She wonders what he's been telling everyone. She doesn't want to know.

He's already found an adoptive family for the baby. When did he find the time to do this? She doesn't want to know that, either. She doesn't want to know anything about it. She told him to tell them they weren't allowed to be at the hospital with her, that she never wants to see them, never wants to know their names. The temptation would be too strong, if she knew.

He does as she asks. He is the only one at the hospital with her. She makes him stay out in the waiting room. This isn't for him. This is for her and Apollo, no one else.

The nurses call for him after the delivery, and when he enters the room, it's with a frown. Thalassa is holding the baby--a tiny, perfect baby boy. He'd told her it would be easiest if she didn't see him, didn't hold him.

She begs him to make the adoptive family keep the name she's given her little boy. It's the only thing she wants from them-- _needs_ from them. He says he'll do his best, but she has to understand that it's not his decision.

It doesn't matter, she thinks, looking down at the baby in her arms. He'll always be her Apollo.


End file.
